


Future Casts Its Blissless Shadow

by honeymink



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymink/pseuds/honeymink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then he slowly saw his nightmares were their dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future Casts Its Blissless Shadow

Rules were for the obedience of the commonalty and the guidance of the refined. And rules were to be followed. It was only considerate and prudent really. But Haymitch was none of those things.

“A man’s manners are a mirror in which he shows his portrait,” Effie lectured and pursed her pink lips. The colour, she had informed him earlier, was called _évasion_. 

For reasons that escaped her, he shook with laughter, “You should have them tearing up the seats and rolling in the aisles with that one, love.”

This year’s Games had been particularly unsuccessful for the District 12 tributes, which Effie blamed almost entirely on Haymitch telling the sad little children to embrace the probability of their imminent death. And so they did. The boy stepped off the platform too early and the girl died in the bloodbath. Effie was frustrated. Judging by his drinking and yelling obscenities at everyone, especially her, so was Haymitch. 

“Why do you always hound me?” he groaned and was seemingly annoyed when she presented him the fine linen suit she had bought for him to wear at the Victor’s Party. “You know I despise you and everything you stand for.”

“Well,” Effie frowned a little but forced herself to sound chipper. “There is always a chance I may be able to improve your opinion, and your manners. Now, up up up. It’s going to be a big big big night.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes, “If I were the cream for your coffee, love, I’d curdle.” Then after a pause he added quietly, “I can’t take this anymore.”

***

 _Rules and manners_ , Haymitch reminded himself. _Rules and manners_. And another sip of Victory Gin. When it came to worst events he was ever forced to attend, this party had no competition. Brutus paraded his winner around like a prized pig. It made Haymitch want to throw up over his new suit; Effie should be furious indeed. But somehow he felt it wouldn’t bring him any satisfaction.

“I’m having what he has,” a man with a peculiarly groomed beard said, leaping onto the barstool next to him. 

“So, what does define your personal signature as Head Gamemaker, Crane? Apart from killing twenty-three kids every year,” Haymitch snarled, not as drunk as he would have liked to be. “I mean, what knits us all together? Must have passed out, never saw the whole interview.”

Seneca Crane downed his drink in one gulp. He eyed Haymitch suspiciously before he explained, “See, the genius of the Games is found in the dynamics that isolate the tributes from each other. Take the Careers for example, giving them the opportunity to train, to volunteer, to feel privileged obscures the reality of a common condition they share with all the other districts. It makes a united rebellion impossible.”

Waving for another drink, Haymitch’s brows rose. Crane wasn’t wrong and he hardly invented this strategy himself but telling him so openly seemed outrageous. Was he looking to get hit? Or was he waiting to be contradicted? Haymitch had heard whispers of an underground movement in which allegedly even Capitol citizens were involved. 

But that was doubtful and Haymitch had never liked being manipulated. His face displaying an innocent expression, he repeated something Effie had told him a while ago. He even imitated her annoyingly chipper tone, “But there is no way in which the Capitol can be overthrown. The rule of the Capitol is forever.”

“Never picked you for a funny drunk, Abernathy,” Plutarch Heavensbee leaned against the bar on his other side. 

Haymitch narrowed his eyes, looking for a way out. He was surrounded.

“Of course next year’s arena is already being built,” Heavensbee continued. “But let’s say the flavour of the Games is yet to be determined. Mason and Odair will join us for a strategy meeting later. And you, if you care… of course it’s all totally hush hush.”

***

To conclude Crane and Heavensbee were on Snow’s hit list and Finnick had dirt on them all. Johanna was just violent and driven enough to push them over the edge. 

Two hundred miles per hour on that bloody train and Haymitch felt the speed making him dizzy. Of course it could also be the booze. He was tight as a tick. And yet he didn’t feel like stopping, not after what he had heard: They needed a face for their rebellion, a poster child to embody the cause, a revealer fishing for even more souls in the districts. Who better than the winner of next year’s Games? They would just have to make sure that they picked the right one.

His hand clenched around the glass. _Whiskey Sour_. The ice was long molten when Effie entered the bar car. Every year she went back to District 12 with him. A gesture he didn’t understand. Not that they ever had anything to celebrate. But she insisted it was her duty as an escort. _Yeah, right. Whatever!_

“Don’t let me stop you from not being there.” 

Haymitch closed his eyes and slumped deeper into the plush armchair. Still he could feel her towering over him, prim and a disdainful look in her eyes. Probably because he had slipped from her vision at the party, refused to tell her where he went and messed with their scheduled departure in the process.

“Now,” she puckered her lips, obviously thinking of a snide remark. “I could certainly do that. But I am paralysed with not caring very much.”

“Excellent come back, love!” Haymitch chuckled then coughed as he downed the rest of his drink, swallowing the wrong way.

He could hear her exhaling in exasperation. “Haymitch, why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Well, Effie,” it felt strange saying her actual name out loud instead of his usual derisive terms of endearment. “I always drink.” He opened his eyes and pointed a finger at her. “Particularly when I’m with you.”

“Am I that hard to take sober?” she snapped.

Sometimes when he was drunk enough to forget the circumstances and Effie was not so damn perky and stripped of her crazy make-up – like now – he thought he was actually fond of her. 

With a mischievous grin he got up, “You know, you’re a voluptuous pain in the neck.”

“Haymitch!” she exclaimed indignantly at his careless smack on her behind, but composed herself quickly to scold him, “I think it is time for bed.”

“Oh excellent,” he leaned on her shoulder. “You lead the way, love.”

***

One year later, she took the stage again. Haymitch watched Effie whispering the familiar last words of that bloody propaganda film: “This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future.” 

_That cruel old joke!_ He wondered what made her believe in it. Surely that shade on her lips must be called _candeur_. 

“Now the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District 12 in the 74th annual Hunger Games.”

 _Courage and honour_. Effie was bright and bubbly as ever. Looking at the crowd of children, pale and not ready to die, he would have to ask her later what made her choose those unfortunate words. Now though, he wanted nothing more than to stagger towards her, kiss her face, and rip that ridiculous pink wig from her head. With one word, embarrass her. But he knew it was petty. And then there was the rebellion to be considered. Besides, Ripper had not nearly given him enough white liquor to pull this off. It surely would have been a crowd pleaser though. _Excuses…_

So he stayed seated and saw her, smiling and painted, drawing lots for their fortune. And he saw that they had lost.

***

Briefly considering last year’s train ride, Effie blushed. Haymitch hadn’t embarrassed her this year. Perhaps her lectures on presentation and televised behaviour had finally fallen on fertile ground. For now of course, she had the tributes to consider. They appeared presentable for once. The girl sat up straight at the table. Her dress was pretty.

“Haymitch!” She exclaimed brightly. “How nice of you to join us. We were scheduled to start dinner almost ten minutes ago.”

He looked around, seemingly disoriented and groaned, “The boy is not here yet either.” 

Falling onto his chair, Effie could see his hand reaching out for the bottle of whiskey. Suddenly he stopped, staring at the girl. _How very impolite!_ He seemed pale to her; indignation made way for concern. Then the most curious thing happened, Haymitch took the water carafe instead.

Finally the boy entered, colour came back to Haymitch’s face along with the sarcasm in his voice, “Oh, hello snookums! Congratulations!”

***

The ribbon in her hair was pink like the birds that had killed Maysilee. It was a disturbing thought from which he only recovered slowly. A drink would have surely helped. But he couldn’t fail her again.

“Now isn’t it fabulous that this time our tributes are rather attractive?” Effie chirped, then took a criticising look at the boy. “You must lose that frown, Gale dear.”

“Unequalled,” Haymitch snorted. “Anything special you can do? Snookums?”

“Hunt, trap, snare,” Gale growled, hostile.

“Ah,” Haymitch smirked. “So you’re the angry one. What about you, Margaret?”

The boy stifled a dismissive laugh, and then winced. Effie’s shiny high-heels probably got a hack on his shin.

“Well, my mother is very sick, so I learnt to sneak about very quietly. Also,” the girl pressed her lips together and then smiled. “My friend Katniss used to take me outside and showed me how to shoot.”

It didn’t take long, something must have sunk in and Gale started yelling obscenities at Margaret, who did not avert her gaze but continued to smile ever so slightly.

Haymitch’s brows rose, appraising the interesting dynamic.

“Manners!” shouted Effie desperately.

The soup hadn’t even been served yet.

***

If Heavensbee deemed one of them worthy enough, he wouldn’t have to return to 12 with two bodies. Laying off the alcohol so abruptly, was miserable. His hands shaking, Haymitch hugged the porcelain sink in his bathroom. Dinner would not stay down. Afterwards under the icy shower, the pounding in his head lessened. 

Realistically, Effie was right, the boy was the better bet. His physique and determination suggested it. But every time he looked at the girl, he saw those pink birds hacking away at Maysilee’s neck, saw the blood, felt helpless and angry. How couldn’t he take this second chance to save her?

***

“Out!” Haymitch barked, entering the buffet car with the blue plush sofas. 

Effie and Gale stared at him, irritated.

“You!” he pointed a finger at Effie. “Snookums and I need to have a little chat.”

Getting up, Effie frowned, “You are being rude, Haymitch. Besides I should be there when you discuss strategy. You know that secrecy is repugnant in a society so free and open as ours!”

Haymitch snorted with laughter. Some day soon he would have to bang all these crazy notions about Panem out of Effie.

“Make no mistake, love,” he said seductively, his fingertips slightly brushing along her arm. “I shall regret the absence of your keen mind,” he felt Effie shiver under his touch. “But unfortunately, it is inseparable from an extremely disturbing body. So could you please remove yourself? Now would be good.” 

“Rude!” Effie repeated and narrowed her eyes. But then she must have caught Gale’s curious stare. In her mind it would be surely unbecoming to show a dissent between escort and mentor, so she added apologetically, “I’m sure he means every other word he says.”

“Apart from the obvious like having to enter the Games and die, what the hell is your problem?” Haymitch challenged Gale as soon as Effie had left the wagon.

“Don’t know what you mean,” the boy shot him a glare, crossing his arms over his chest.

“A sandwich short of a picnic, are we?” Haymitch couldn’t fathom why this had to be so difficult. Perhaps if he spoke extra slowly – “I mean what’s your problem with the girl?”

“She’s from town, I’m from the Seam,” Gale said coolly. 

Haymitch rolled his eyes, “Maybe your observation skills are not that refined but look around you. You’re on a train, you’re in the Games. There is no town or Seam. You are both young, pretty and dead. Anything else?”

Gale pressed his lips together and looked out of the window into the darkness. 

“It’s Katniss,” he said after a pause.

That was the second time the name came up. Haymitch scratched his head.

“That your girlfriend?”

“Not really, she’s my best friend.”

Haymitch shrugged, the boy’s sulking seriously strained his nerves, “Fine. So?”

“When she came to visit me, she told me to be nice to Madge. She didn’t say ‘Good luck, Gale. I know you can do it. Please come back.’ Oh no – she said ‘Be nice to Madge.’” Gale clenched his teeth. Haymitch could see his jaw muscles working. “We were hunting partners for years and now I hear she took Undersee to the woods. Undersee with her pretty little dress and her pretty little ribbons,” he spat.

So this was about jealousy. Haymitch sighed deeply. If he couldn’t get wasted, then at least he wanted to bang his head against something hard. Perhaps if he ignored a few things and broke the rest down to nothingness, he would outwit the boy.

“Let me get this straight, your friend had another friend. She asked you to be nice to that friend. Also that friend has a pretty dress. That’s your logic?”

“Yes! No… I don’t know,” Gale groaned.

Haymitch frowned. Then he looked the boy straight in the eyes until it was obvious that Gale felt somewhat uncomfortable.

“I want you to take care of Margaret now and in the arena.”

Gale stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Look, you’ll both be dead in two weeks tops. Until then, I want you to look after Margaret,” Haymitch said slowly in a hushed tone. “In return I will take care of your family back at home.”

“Why?” Gale asked. 

Now that was unspecific. Would this conversation ever come to a fruitful end? Haymitch decided to give it one more try.

“I’m indebted to her mother. If you help me out on this, I’m in your debt. And so I will share the ample generosity the Capitol extends to me as a Victor, and feed your lot too.”

Haymitch saw that he had struck a nerve. Debts were certainly something the boy understood. Finally Gale nodded slowly and they shook hands.

“Splendid,” Haymitch said. “I might get some sleep after all. How about you go and wish the girl a good night then?”

Perhaps he had put something suggestive in his voice.

“Sure,” Gale shot back sarcastically. “You could already tell at dinner from the way she looked at me that if I were any other kind of boy, it would’ve been the start of a beautiful romance.”

Haymitch snorted, “More power to you! You're lonely and dead soon, but more power to you!”

“Gosh, I think I liked you better drunk,” Gale said, annoyed.

“Trust me,” he ignored this dig at him. “There are certain things a man wants to experience in life and your days are numbered, your opportunities limited. So seize them. Margaret is a pretty girl.”

“Undersee is insufferable!” Gale snapped.

“There's a fair amount of the pot calling the kettle black now.” Haymitch felt his patience waning. “One last piece of advice, snookums, the time to make up your mind about people is never.”

***

Reluctantly, Gale made his way to the sleeping car. As he knocked he realised he wasn’t sure what he was doing. At her invitation to come in, he entered.

“Gale?” She was surprised. Perhaps she had thought it was Effie.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s late, but I –“ he frowned. “What did Katniss say to you when she came to see you at the Justice Building?”

Madge looked at him and smiled a little, “She said, be nice to Gale.”

Fazed, he ran his hand through his hair and sat down on the edge of her bed. His life had turned false like a reflecting pond. He dared not look at it. All the ideas and wishes he had yesterday were irrelevant and unanswered. 

“Was it a compliment?” she asked suddenly. “Did you like my dress?”

Turning around, he looked at her for a moment and answered truthfully, “No.”

She only nodded slightly but didn’t look away. 

“Were you serious?” he asked in return. “Did you think you needed to look pretty to go to the Capitol?”

“No. I was messing with you,” she answered with a mocking smile.

Gale snorted. Maybe Haymitch was right. The divide, formerly burnt into his mindset, was of no consequence here. Madge was quiet but undaunted. Perhaps he could like her.

“So what did you think of me?” she enquired calmly.

Clenching his teeth, he felt the tension in his jaw muscles. But there was no use in lying now.

“I didn’t think of you. Not as a person. Perhaps at times of what you represented.” This wasn’t exactly calculated to further whatever it was Haymitch had insinuated he should do, they should do. “Sorry,” Gale added and pressed his lips together. “You?”

“I thought if Katniss put up with you, there must be something to recommend you,” she answered with dry sarcasm. 

A brief embarrassed laugh escaped his hoarse throat. His lips had turned to glowing coals. He didn’t remember when they started to burn.

“Guess the odds aren’t exactly in my favour.” 

Madge looked surprised, “Whatever for?”

“To improve your view with a romantic gesture.” He couldn’t believe he said that. Gale rolled his eyes. “Damn, Haymitch thinks we are missing out on...” Madge chocked her laughter. Unnerved, he shook his head, “Fine, laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” she smiled warmly and took his hand. “But I’m not the loving kind.” 

Now she had thoroughly confused him. His mouth twitched nervously, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“You may forego the gesture,” she finally suggested, biting her lower lip. “Unless you insist.”

***

Always taking pride in her keen observation skills, Effie could not believe she had missed this. Thanks to the new stylists who had been assigned to 12 this year the opening ceremonies had been a huge success. That had been unexpected and certainly distracting. All these people who for the first time showed an interest in her tributes, Effie had been so pleased. Haymitch being almost sober and civilized had confounded her further. The first day of training went over well. Now of course, stumbling backwards out of the girl’s room, Effie realised this had been too good to be true. Something always went wrong. After closing the door, she took a deep breath before she knocked again loudly.

“Margaret, up, up, up!” Effie’s shaking voice died away, she tried to compose herself. “It’s another day of training.” She paused, not being able to find her cheerful tone, she added irritatedly, “You too, Gale.”

Back in the living room she found Haymitch at the breakfast table. 

“I hope you noticed, we have a serious situation!” Effie was in a dither.

“Pass the clotted cream?” Haymitch asked, absent-minded. _Ignoring her and focusing on a scone, so typical._ Her blood was up.

“Scandalised! I am scandalised,” she shrilled. “I found Gale in Margaret’s room!”

“Can you pass the marmalade?” Haymitch remained unfazed.

“How could this happen?” Effie lamented until he finally put down the knife and looked at her.

“You know how this happens,” he snorted, obviously alluding to last year’s last night on the train.

Effie blushed furiously, “Oh, I suppose I propositioned you?”

“Well, you practically did, telling me it was bedtime. I still claim I was tight that night,” he said calmly. “If you had been a gentleman, you would have forgotten all about it. But not you!”

“Why, you –” Effie hurled a bread roll at him and missed.

“You’re losing your eye, love.” Haymitch mocked dryly, “You used to be able to pitch better than that.”

“That was your idea!” Recognition hit her. “You put them up to this!”

He sighed, not acknowledging her accusation. “They are going to die. It’s one last act of defiance.”

“How about it’s just bad manner, Haymitch? How about that?” She couldn’t calm herself down.

“You know how in legends it’s usually virgins who get sacrificed first?” Haymitch picked up his scone and licked some jam off his fingers. “They are basically doing each other a favour.”

“So this is your masterly strategy?” she threw her arms up in frustration. “How enlightened! Resplendent!”

“Well, he will look out for her in the arena now,” he poured himself some tea. “As for the rest, we will see.”

Since the train, he had acted strangely when it came to the girl. Effie narrowed her eyes and fought the urge to polish his sticky finger prints off the tea pot, “Why is that so important to you?”

“Pass the milk?” 

He ignored her again.

***

Back on the train, Effie had remarked that Gale was tall and strong, looked almost like a Career. The comparison made him sick. The Careers made him sick. Of course they were victims of the circumstances created by the Capitol like all of them but absolution would be so much easier to grant if they weren’t so damn keen on killing.

“In the early stages of the Games, the Careers often band together to hunt down the weak,” Haymitch had explained before they went to their training session. “I don’t suggest you actually join them but if they approach you, be careful and how can I put this… noncommittal.”

“How does he expect me to do that, really?” demanded Gale grimly as they rode down the elevator. “Yesterday he called me hostile and sullen.”

“Divide and conquer,” Madge said, mindful. “They hunt in packs. Let’s say we don’t let them.”

Gale frowned. All of this was so tiring. “What if we don’t fight? If no one fights, they don’t have a game.”

“Simple as that?” she smiled. “Even if you were able to convince everyone, the Careers included, the Gamemakers would still find ways to manipulate us into killing each other.”

As frustrating as it was, he had to admit that she was right. Plus, if he gave up and didn’t at least try to put up a fight, it would set a bad example for his brothers. 

“Right,” he admitted, surly. “They probably won’t notice me anyway.”

But they did.

If he said it didn’t vex him and make him think of Katniss when he observed Madge practising with the bow and arrows, he’d be a liar. But he sucked it up, gritted his teeth and gave her a few pointers. She was actually not bad at this. Katniss must have been a good teacher. _More teeth gritting_. He shot a few arrows himself and hit his target every time. That was comforting. When they contemplated moving on to the edible plant station, Gale saw the District 1 tributes approaching. 

Madge moved closer to him and whispered, “Marvel and Glimmer.” 

“What?”

“Their names.”

“They must hate their parents,” Gale replied quietly. 

From the corner of his eye he could see that Madge struggled to remain serious. So he could make her laugh. It shouldn’t matter but for some reason he was very pleased with himself.

“Nice shooting, mate!” Marvel commented. “Anything else you’re good at?”

Surely, they had observed him for the past couple of days, so they already knew. Redundant questions always annoyed him.

“Traps,” he answered, trying hard to appear indifferent.

“That so?” Marvel clicked his tongue and gave Madge a quick glance. “Can she do anything?”

It was beyond Gale why Marvel addressed him with that question. 

“She,” Madge thankfully answered for herself, “is plotting your death. But in a happy way.”

“Funny,” Marvel chuckled and addressed Gale again. “So, want to team up?” 

Trying to remember what she had said earlier, Gale looked questioningly at Madge. Glimmer had yet to say a word. Perhaps it was custom in District 1 for the man to speak for himself and his woman. _Odd_. Gale rolled his eyes. Then it came back to him. Madge had said something about dividing.

“Depends,” Gale said slowly and looked at Glimmer. The girl stared at the male District 2 tribute.

“Oh, Cato could be so handsome,” Madge sighed and smiled brightly at Glimmer.

Gale frowned before he finally caught on.

“Could be?” asked Glimmer surprised.

A mixture of regret and a bit of worry spread across Madge’s face, “Just look, he has that crazy sparkle in his eyes.”

Both Marvel and Glimmer stared over at Cato now. They were almost there, Gale only had to go one better and they’d quickly rule Cato out as an ally.

“Yeah,” Gale said concerned. “Reminds me of Titus.”

Marvel flinched. Glimmer laughed nervously.

“So… depends on what?” Marvel got back on the original topic.

Gale knew he had to think quickly and the only thing he could think of was a compromise. Hopefully Madge wouldn’t hate him for this.

“Look, you or I could take him alone but why not make it easier on the four of us,” he said casually to Marvel. “We stick together in the beginning and hunt him down. Then we part amicably and only fight each other when we make it to the finale.”

Marvel seemed to ponder this for a moment but Glimmer interrupted quickly, “Sounds good to me.”

“Fair enough, mate,” Marvel agreed generously. “Let’s do this!”

The symbolic handshake that followed was just as much as Gale could stomach. Marvel and Glimmer went off to the spear throwing station. Exhaling deeply, Gale closed his eyes. 

“You did well,” said Madge and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

***

The inevitable would fall like a sword-stroke, but Effie wanted to see it coming. Something was up with Haymitch, something she wasn’t privy to and it hurt her. That last realisation made her uncomfortable. Haymitch had behaved impossibly in the past and it had never bothered her. Perhaps because she knew she was indispensible to him and the tributes. But this year everything was different. He even had Cinna pick out a suit for him, something she usually did quietly and efficiently without him asking for it.

This time he was sober and paid attention to their tributes – well, at least one of them. It was clear he didn’t want her to know why. And it was clear that he would not tell her voluntarily what all these secret meetings with Heavensbee and the mentors from district 4 and 7 were all about.

In the past, he never disguised his disdain for the Capitol. But perhaps that was because he was drunk. How anyone in their right mind could hate the country that fed them, loved them, protected them was incomprehensible to her. Effie truly believed that the sorrow over the lost tributes and the joy for the victor brought everyone closer together. 

One night before he drank himself into a stupor, Haymitch had asked her how she would have felt had she been picked for the arena. 

“Honoured, of course,” she had replied and he had shaken his head, stared at her with bloodshot eyes and answered, “The sad thing is, I believe you!”

Now, a dreadful silence had spread out over the government archive, Effie shivered as she went through the file the Capitol had on Haymitch. She felt guilty and nervous, because it was an invasion of his privacy, and that was not polite at all. But she knew there was something wrong and when she watched the tape of the second Quarter Quell, his games, she saw what it was.

At first Effie thought the pink birds beautiful, but then they attacked the girl. It wasn’t that she had never seen tributes being killed by mutts before and it wasn’t that the girl looked a lot like Margaret. It was the deception. Everything in the arena was so beautiful but so treacherous and deadly. The Games were necessary. The Capitol had rules and rules were to be followed. But this arena was twisted, malicious, and dishonest, and disguised it with beauty. It felt mean and wrong. 

Effie watched a young Haymitch run towards his fellow tribute. Of course he could not help, as her screams died away his got louder. _Despair and frustration and true pain._ The nausea came over her in waves but she couldn’t look away. Effie realised that her cheeks were wet. It was a good thing she had not powdered her face, or her make-up would have been even more ruined.

One of the peacekeepers came over and switched off the telescreen. 

“We are closing,” he barked and eyed her suspiciously. 

Suddenly Effie was ashamed as if she had been caught doing something unseemly. And maybe she had been. She wasn’t supposed to feel afraid and disgusted by the Capitol, her country that fed her, loved her and protected her. But she did.

***

Their voices suppressed, he laid his silence on her lips. Wordlessly she returned it with her mouth. The paradise where they had been without sin hadn’t been completely forgotten. But today, four days into the Games, it was unreachable.

White sand in her hair, Madge stood next to Gale, sad like him, because their day was too short, their year was too short, their life was too short.

“Guess every Cinderella has her midnight,” Gale’s voice dripped with sarcasm as Madge wiped away her tears. They both stared down at Glimmer.

So it turned out, Gale’s traps didn’t work as well on humans as on animals. As promised they had acquired some essentials and re-grouped after the bloodbath. But while Cato was an arrogant brute, he wasn’t completely clueless either. Only after much luring and trickery, the boy from 2 finally got entangled in one of Gale’s snares.

“Well, well, let's ring bells! Let's send up skyrockets!” Marvel cheered, jovial as ever.

“You’re a born fool, One! Without your pathetic little posse, I’d have got you. Slaughtered you like a lamb, brought pride to my district,” Cato coughed as the blood rushed to his head. “And you? You are nothing. Nothing! Oh, we all fall down!”

Gale frowned, watching Marvel closely as he kicked Cato in the stomach repeatedly and laughed and laughed and laughed.

“You know what, Two?” Marvel grinned. “Compared to the way I'll end you, the last man in a chain gag gets to thoroughly enjoy himself. Now –” he pressed the knife against Cato’s throat. “You still think you’re better than anybody else?” Marvel grinned and rolled his eyes, “One thing I don't want is to start this endless, aimless discussion all over again! I am a hunter! I AM THE MAN!”

It had to be done, they saw it coming and yet Gale and Madge averted their eyes as Marvel slit the trapped tribute’s throat. No bells, no skyrockets but a cannon was finally fired. 

“Everyone who has ever teamed up with a Career ended up dead. Just keep that in mind,” Haymitch had given them one last warning before they were herded into the hovercraft. 

Gale thought about that now as driven by this recent rush of blood, Marvel launched forward and threw his knife at him. _So much for non-aggression pacts._ One tiny step aside, one tiny step between life and death – Gale’s crossbow aimed at Marvel’s chest. He did not miss.

For a moment, Gale thought he could only hear his own shallow breath, Madge’s and Glimmer’s screams seemed very distant. As he looked up, he saw the panic on Glimmer’s face and she ran. Ran away, faster and faster. Ran and stumbled over the edge of the cliff. 

“Were you –” Madge’s voice trailed off. "Were you going to kill her?"

Carefully they had made it down the rocky slope. Madge held Glimmer’s head. It was clear her neck was broken. Blood trickled from her temple. Gale went through the girl’s things to see if there was anything useful they could take.

“It wasn’t on my immediate agenda,” Gale scoffed. 

Then he looked into Madge’s eyes that seemed a bit teary. His annoyance was mixed with a hint of sadness now. They would die for sure but as what? It had only taken them four days to lose their humanity. 

“Look Madge, it’s a confounded annoyance but it’s the Games, alright?”

Madge closed Glimmer’s eyes. “She ran because she was scared we’d kill her!”

Gale pressed his lips together and looked away. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know.”

***

Now a stranger sat by his side: he was colourless, couldn’t consider or approve. But he had dark rings under his eyes.

Still what did it matter? Crane and Heavensbee favoured Johanna’s boy. Seventeen, of average height with dark blonde hair and a plain but friendly face: The perfect clay to mould their future flag bearer. Finnick’s girl was next in line. 

“Try and stay alive,” Haymitch had sighed in spite of everything. 

It seemed like a lifetime ago. Now it was down to three. The cornucopia lay in the middle of a gypsum dune field. Red blood would soak the white sand soon. The finale was near. Effie sat next to him, unusually quiet. Something had happened to her but Haymitch couldn’t pay attention. His tributes were still out there despite the Gamemakers’ meddling and they were their best options now. Haymitch battered his fists to feel something. Was there redemption? He thought of Maysilee. What about the rebellion? He looked at Crane and Heavensbee and slowly saw that his nightmares were their dreams.

Nothing he could do about it, so he put on a serious face. “This was a brand new dress shirt,” he said, matter-of-fact then asked mockingly, “What’s that lipstick you smeared on my collar, love?”

Effie frowned, “It’s called _liberté_.”

Haymitch laughed.

***

“I’d gladly forego death,” Gale coughed. “But apparently it can’t forego me.”

Breathing had become hard. Coldness blew through the night. Even here in the mouth of the Cornucopia, where he had dragged Madge, using the last of his strength. 

Madge forced a drowsy smile, “You should run, don’t walk, to the nearest exit.”

“You are funny,” Gale laughed despite the pain.

Her head sank down on his shoulder. Panic washed over him. But she wasn’t dead yet. Merely immobilised by poison and bleeding out from Clove’s knife, just like him. From their sheltered position, he had been able to fend off the short and aggressive girl from 2. Soon, however, they would be paralysed and another of the girl’s knives would easily tear their flesh. End this. End it all.

“Madge?” he whispered, still wary – the Capitol might listen after all. “I thought it wouldn’t be different than hunting animals.” He paused. “Marvel, that was self defence but…”

Taking his cold damp hand, she closed her eyes. “It’s the Games, Gale, every killing is self defence, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

He pondered that for a minute. “Did you mean it?” he suddenly asked. “That you would not love?”

“No. I was messing with you,” she smiled and squeezed his hand a little.

“So,” he said smugly. “I could have taken you to the slagheap?” 

In a last energy-sapping effort, Madge opened her eyes and looked at him fondly. He realised the poison had worked its way through her system, she was bleeding from the wound in her stomach, she was weak but calm. She had always been quiet, kind and brave. And he hadn’t seen it until the Games. 

“Of course you’re too good for me,” he said as firmly as he could, not willing to contemplate the cruelty that the Games had actually given him something and would be taking it away again in a matter of moments.

Madge gave a wince of pain, letting out a small laugh, “Even if I had followed you behind the slagheap?”

“Sure, you’re the mayor’s daughter after all,” he smirked and stroked her hair. “And I’d made you most unhappy, most. That is, I’d have done my best to.”

“I know,” she smiled and kissed him softly. “I hope…” her voice died down to a whisper. “I hope someone is nice to Katniss.”

A wave of pain washed over him, she still felt warm. So Gale kissed Madge, kissed her until there was nothing to kiss with his burning lips, and with time their lips turned cold.

Now she was dead. He held on to her and couldn’t move. At the moment it was raining. Clove slit his throat.

***

There was a party of course. Against all odds, the girl from 2 had done the only thing she knew how to do. _Kill. Bring pride to her district._

“The heart is mighty, and to live in vain is worse than to die!” Crane saluted while the girl was just as on guard and hostile as ever.

Haymitch was tempted to tell her that this would never end. She would be damaged forever. There was no redemption, not for him, not for her. A bottle of Victory Gin later, he could finally bring himself to punch Heavensbee in the face. Of course the peacekeepers assaulting him then had to be expected.

“Why is it that you can’t stand the sight of blood on anyone but me, love?” Haymitch slurred as Effie finally dragged him onto the train and into the bathroom.

Effie sighed deeply and closed her eyes as Haymitch threw up in the bathtub. She opened the tap and cold water rushed from the showerhead. Surprisingly the expected lecture on manners never came up. So he cleaned his face with a wet cotton flannel and leaned his head back against the cool tiles of the wall. _Two hundred miles per hour..._

“You’ve just had a bad day, Haymitch, that’s all.” 

Obviously despite a fair amount of disgust for the presumably dirty bathroom floor, Effie slowly slid down the wall and sat down next to him.

“Now that’s a masterpiece of understatement, love!” he snorted and found that laughing hurt his head too much. 

Slowly he turned his face to her and stared at her curly silver wig. 

“You know, there is no second place in the Games, right?”

Effie nodded and rolled her eyes ever so slightly, before taking off the wig. It occurred to him then that she might feel exposed without this barrier of artificial enhancements. He wasn’t sorry though. The light green eyebrows were still disturbing but he found he liked her natural straight blonde hair. 

Also she had let the water running, so he felt safe to speak.

“Clove –“ Haymitch said slowly and wiped a hand over his face, his eyes. “Hell, how will they turn her into their rebellion poster child?”

Effie let her eyes wander to the upper corner on her side of the bathroom. 

She pursed her lips and smiled, “Perhaps she is a good actress.”

The shade of her lipstick was called _bonheur_. Haymitch sighed and asked Effie to stay with him, at least for a while.

 

**~Fin~ ******


End file.
